


Business as Usual

by MegaMink



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gang Violence, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 14,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11075376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegaMink/pseuds/MegaMink
Summary: Takes place in a modern human AU.The Cold family were quite a feared group of people. They were the richest and the most vicious family of a real estate business in the city. They owned almost everything, and held the leash of the cities most terrifying gang known as the Saiyans. However problems arise as the youngest of the family decides to purchase the old decrepit apartment building, the body count begins to grow.





	1. -1-

 Now the strangest thing about the man was that he’d always keep his hands near his chest, overlapped together in a dainty fashion. Though appearance was always deceiving. While the man was quite tall, his body was slimmer and had not many pointed edges. Lovely curves along his hips provided a nice body to look at, leading to long, nicely thick and shapely legs. If the first thing someone noticed about him wasn’t his hips and down, it was his face. Mocha skin littered in freckles stretched a gorgeous face, with a long pretty nose, plump lips, sharp cheekbones, and amber eyes so pretty many found themselves lost in them. Thin brows arched, and luscious lashes that fluttered when he’d blink. And to top it off, rich brown hair tied back into a braid framed that masterpiece of a face. 

 That’s who Frieza of course found himself staring at during that dull meeting. His secretary was quite easily a gift from the gods to him, as he could both be a wonderful thing to look at, but he could handle almost everything that Frieza had no care to pay attention to. And what Zarbon couldn’t do, Dodoria could handle. 

 Dodoria was a wide man, threatening too. He was tall -not as much as Zarbon, but a good amount- and hefty. He was a mix of muscle and fat, making a very strong man. His skin was a dark brown, with a pretty decent face, although he always seemed to look angry. Probably his eyes. He had a wide nose, and thick lips. Dark brown eyes were a bit squinted, and thick brows furrowed. He looked scary to many, due to his large size. It was well enough for when threats were necessary. And his hair was short, curled tightly and appearing almost spike-like. Judgemental people would say he was ugly, and unfortunately for him, many people there were.

 However those two secretaries had quite unexpected personalities. Zarbon was, a bit creepy to say the least. He rarely spoke, and when he would, it would be quite monotone. His eyes were cold, and normally were glaring. He was not a friendly man, aggressive or awkward. It was hardly ever anything else. Dodoria however, was a social butterfly. Friendly most of the time, with occasions in which his anger grew terrifying. He spoke well with others, the opposite of Zarbon. And still, despite the two’s heavily clashing personalities and appearances, they seemed to hardly be away from one another. 

 “Mr Cold, are you hearing us?” A voice huffed, yanking the young business man from his thoughts. He sat straight, eyes torn away from Zarbon. He cleared his throat, looking the other man in the face. A representative, from some company his father was working with that Frieza couldn’t remember the name of.  

 Frieza himself wasn’t all that impressive to look at. He was frankly just a short and thin man, with a thin button nose and almost a baby face. His black hair was always slicked back, cut at the sides. And a purple fedora always sat on top his head. He had pale skin, and eyes that almost looked red. Thin brows were almost invisible on his face. A strange thing about him, was how he’d almost always be seen with eyeliner and dark purple lipstick. Nobody questioned it.

 “Well, as I was saying. I don’t believe that making purchases in that area is a very wise decision,” The man said, gulping a bit as Frieza shot a chilling glare at him. 

  “And why is that? Do you believe that I cannot handle the effort of fixing properties there?” He asked, his voice barely more than a low hiss. The man stood up, adjusting his hat. He smoothed out the jacket to his suit. 

 “N-No sir! I just believe that the… Locals there would cause us a bit of trouble.” The man tried to explain, without offending the two in the room who seemed to be glaring at him. He gulped as the woman stood, glaring at him with the eye that functioned. 

 “Celerah sit down, it’s not worth it.” Dodoria sighed, and the woman huffed. She sat back down, speaking with the man next to her.  

 “Mr Chike, I can assure you that we will not be having _any_ problems with the Saiyans.” Zarbon suddenly spoke for the first time during that meeting. He closed the folder containing finely written notes he’d been taking throughout the meeting. Dodoria had been the one mainly doing the talking. 

 “Mr. Zarbon please, you cannot be sure that they will not see it as a threat, you know how those who live down there act, they’re unruly!” Chike said, seemingly forgetting that two people who resided in that area sat directly across from him. 

 “Their leader has had problems trusting you all in the past, and frankly I do not see the appeal of having any apartments down there. All that live there are criminals and-” 

 ‘Hey! What the hell old man?! You can’t just assume shit like that!” The woman huffed again, slamming her hands against the table. 

 “As much as I disagree with Celerah’s method of arguing I have to agree,” The one who sat next to her said calmly in a thick country accent.  

 “While many of those who live down there do tend to react violently, I still need to broaden my choices in where I must build Chike,” Frieza said. Chike shut up, and sat back down in his seat. Obviously losing this argument. 

 “Now Okra, Celerah, May you be so kind as to hopefully negotiate with Vegeta Sr? You two are the representatives of that area,” Zarbon requested. The two nodded.  

 “Yes, that will be a proper choice of action. Thank you Zarbon,” Frieza said, smiling a bit.  

 “If I cannot stop you, then I’ll speak with your father!” Chike huffed as he slammed his briefcase shut, storming out of the room.  

 “Well, That went well.” Dodoria sighed, watching the old man angrily storm away.

 “He’ll have no choice in the matter, we won’t be needing his building team anyway,” Frieza chuckled. He looked fondly at Zarbon. “Our lovely Zarbon had spoken to another company on the issue just in case, one with much more experience as well,”


	2. -2-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had accidentally forgotten to set this to have multiple chapters, heck.

Paying the rent while living on a barely minimum wage job was hard enough, and it was nearly impossible while having to carry around a heavy oxygen tank and constantly worry about losing the one functioning lung. And so, the man found himself once again knocking on the door of his friend. Adjusting his circular glasses on his acne sore nose, he swallowed his pride and gripped the handle of his oxygen tank. Breathing through the tubes that brought oxygen to his nose. 

“Guldo? You alright?” A ginger headed man asked, looking down at the much shorter man. He reached towards his ear, fiddling with the hearing aid he wore. Guldo sighed, running a hand through his faded green hair, making a mental note that he’d need to redye it. 

“Got kicked out of the apartment… Had to use the money for another doctor visit instead of paying the rent.” He mumbled, cringing a bit as he remembered the hell that was either deciding on having a place to live, or keep the already limited ability to breathe that he had. It was pretty obvious which of the choices he’d decided, seeing as how he was here, standing at Recoome’s door. It was beyond embarrassing to ask for help like this, but his friend didn’t seem to question it.

“Shit, really?” He asked as he stepped back from the door, opening it wider as to allow Guldo in. Guldo pulled his tank behind him, lifting it up a bit as he tried to get it through the door. 

“Yeah, the place sucked anyway, roaches all over.” He sighed, the door closed, rather loudly. He winced a little, but wasn’t mad at Recoome. The guy couldn’t help the fact that he couldn’t hear without little machines shoved into his head.

“Well I’m kinda glad, that place is Saiyan territory.” Recoome said as he sat down on the old couch. Which frankly, wasn’t long for this world. Recoome was a rather large guy, and most were pretty surprised to hear that he wouldn’t play for the university’s football team. Anyone who really knew him would know he had a larger passion for dancing anyway.

“I’m just glad that Vegeta asshole didn’t end up shooting me,” Guldo sighed, sitting down next to Recoome. The other laughed, adjusting his hearing aids again.

“Yeah, he’s still mad about that time you completely embarrassed him huh?” He asked, bringing out a laugh from Guldo.

“It’s not my fault he tried to grab the bag with my tank in it,” Guldo snorted. That rolling backpack had made carrying his tank much easier, too bad Vegeta had broken it. Though it was funny to watch the guy fall right on his ass. 

“You know, those compressors make it a lot easier. You don’t have to keep getting new tanks.” Recoome sighed, looking over at the tv. It had no sound on, just subtitles. 

“Yeah, if I could even afford one. The only job I managed to get barely even pays me enough to get anything to eat,” He sighed, looking over at the tv. 

“I could help you, you know that right?” Recoome said, giving him a reassuring little pat. Guldo cringed, looking away from the other.

“I don’t have any way to pay you back,” He mumbled. His pride was too strong for that anyway. The other laughed a little.

“You wouldn’t have to pay me back, I want to help.”

“Recoome, it’s three thousand dollars, and we both know we don’t have nearly that much to spare.” 

“I can work overtime until I get enough,”

“No.” 

Recoome sighed, sitting back against the couch, frowning. He looked over at Guldo, he sighed sadly, his hand falling to his side.

“It’s not fair,” he said, standing up and crossing his arms. “Everything in this city is like a damn monopoly, and people like us are just the broken pieces the players just lose.” 

“Yeah…”


	3. -3-

“Jeice, No.” The older man sighed, yanking the tiny man away from the store’s window. The little man whined out, pouting as he crossed his arms.

“C’mon mate, I wasn’t gonna steal anythin!” The young man huffed. He kept his feet planted on the ground, but it didn’t really stop the other from getting tucked right under the arm of the taller man.

“Knowing you, You’ll accidentally end up with someone's wallet and some rings in your pocket,” The older man said, rolling his eyes, “And then I’ll have to bail you out of jail,”

“Ginyuuuuuu, I’m not going to steal anything!” Jeice whined, squeaking as he was suddenly put down. Ginyu tiredly looked down at the man. He was a obviously small dude, barely even standing at 4’9. His poofy and curly hair was bleached white, though the natural brown showed at his roots. His father had been caucasian, though it was a bit hard to tell from how the boy had decently dark skin, plump lips-Though misshapen due to a repaired cleft lip-, and mostly took after his mother. She had lived in australia her entire life, and carried the aboriginal heritage. His father had come from france. The only thing he really shared in common with his dad were hunter green eyes.

The boy liked to regularly joke that he’d inherited his klepto tendencies from his white father, which people with a knowledge of history could find amusing.

“No.”

“Just cause you’re dating my mom doesn’t mean ya can boss me around,” Jeice huffed. For a 21 year old man, Jeice definitely didn’t act his age. 

“As your teacher I can,” He scoffed, walking towards the library. Jeice had to jog to keep up with him.

Ginyu worked at the city's university, but didn’t really feel like much of a professor. He felt more like a baby sitter, having been hired to teach the more “problematic” students, by the headmaster’s words. He didn’t think of his students as anything but students, just students who needed to be taught differently from the others.

“Touche,” Jeice huffed, pouting as he followed the other. Even despite how he’d make a few comments, Jeice didn’t mind having a step-father. And even if he denied it, he’d still find himself calling Ginyu dad. 

“Why’d ya bring me over here?” He finally asked as Ginyu led him inside the library. The older man smiled, giving Jeice’s fluffy head a little pat.

“You’re bored aren’t you? If you get something to read maybe you’ll sit still,” Ginyu said. Jeice puffed out his cheeks, sticking his tongue out.

“I’ve got things ta do!”

“Laying around and eating doesn’t count,” 

“I’m sittin still ain’t I?” 

“And you’re getting fat, come on.” Ginyu said, having Jeice follow him. Jeice muttered a curse under his breath and followed his step-father. As he walked, something suddenly caught his eye. Ginyu turned to see him duck into the animal section. He followed, and saw the boy looking over books about australian wildlife.

“All these talk about is kangaroos and stuff, not about cute things like snakes, and the spiders.” Jeice huffed, continuing to look at the books.

“There’s a book about reptiles here, and a few about insects,” Ginyu suggested.

“Spiders are arachnids, not bugs dad,”

“...I knew that,”


	4. -4-

“Vegeta I’m pretty sure the apartment’s empty,” A voice sighed, the owner, an overly large man with equally extra hair. He pulled it back in a ponytail, though it still fell down to just over his tailbone. Adjusting the hooded jacket he wore, he looked down at the much smaller man. 

“Shut up Raditz! The bastard was here just last week, dragging that fucking tank around!” Vegeta growled, standing in front of the door as he knocked again. 

“Vegeta c’mon, it’s pretty fucked up to try and beat up a guy who already can’t breathe,” Raditz sighed, turning to leave. Vegeta growled, finally losing his cool and just kicking the door in.

“He embarrassed me in front of everyone! I don’t care if he can breathe or not!” He raged, stamping in. Raditz turned, glancing in. The filthy apartment was completely empty, except for a few roaches and disgusting furniture. 

“See, empty.” Raditz said, rolling his eyes as Vegeta tore through the place. There were only three rooms really, The kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. All small. There weren’t any places to hide.

“Why would it be empty?! Did he know I was coming?!” Vegeta growled, kicking over a lamp. Raditz winced just a little as it shattered. 

“He probably just got evicted, you know the old hag that runs this place.” Raditz said, leaving through the broken door. “It’s been empty for a week, but you didn’t want to listen to me,” Raditz stepped out into the street, reaching into his pocket as he took out a carton of cigarettes. Vegeta followed, scowling with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Where’d you get those? I thought your mom threw all yours away.” Vegeta asked, watching Raditz put one in his mouth.

“Stole em from my dad, He’s been too busy trying to figure out how to overthrow the King or whatever to notice me doing anything.” Raditz sighed, shaking his lighter. 

“I thought he was trying to get rid of that Frieza guy?” Vegeta asked, laughing a little. “Though my dad keeps making deals with the Kold company, so guess it’d be difficult to chase Frieza out with that happening.”

“Yeah, thankfully my mom working at the meatshop is enough to keep us eating, since he keeps spending all the money he makes on booze and shit.” Raditz sighed, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

“How’s your brother?” Vegeta asked, looking up at Raditz. He didn’t really care much, but it was at least something to talk about. 

“He’s… Fine, Kakarot’s adoptive family raised him nice. He got into the university too.” Raditz sighed, saddened. “He’s even got a wife now I think,”

“At 19? Seriously?” Vegeta’s eyes were wide, and he laughed a little. “He’s got it going doesn’t he?”   
“Hah… Yeah.” Raditz sighed, dropping his cigarette. He coughed, stepping it down. He really needed to quit. He put the lighter and carton back, starting to walk down the sidewalk.

“I heard that Frieza is trying to buy up some of the apartment buildings,” Vegeta said, following Raditz. He put his hands in his pockets. “He’s probably just going to tear em down, they’re so gross not even the homeless try and sneak in.”

“Hopefully he does, those things are disgusting,” Raditz chuckled, stepping over the cracks in the sidewalks. Even if the game was childish, he didn’t want to risk the unlikely possibility that it really would break his mother’s spine. 

“My dad’s freaking out over it though,” Vegeta sighed, “Maybe he’ll freak out so much he’ll have an aneurysm,” He joked. He and Raditz stopped in front of the bar, checking their pockets for I.D and cash. And their guns. 

The bar wasn’t Saiyan territory, it was Zarbon’s. And frankly, nobody really wanted to mess with his territory without being armed.

“Let’s just hope we don’t run into Okra, or any of Zarbon’s other men. Last time I’d accidentally interrupted a deal.” Raditz mumbled, reaching to open the door. He and Vegeta really needed a few shots, let off stress.

“Imagine if we ran into the guy himself,” Vegeta joked, and the two entered.


	5. -5-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Violence, a character is killed.

Hazel eyes rolled frustratedly, legs crossing daintily over one another. He tucked some hair behind his ear, and sighed as the other male continued to yell angrily. He was making such a scene, on territory completely not his. 

“I don’t care if you own this shit hole! I want my damn money!” The man yelled out, slamming his fists against the wooden table the much more lovely man sat at. The bar was silent except for the raging man and his screaming, patrons watched with eyes wide as they watched.

“You’re the one who’d made the deal with me. And until I see the gun I’d sold to you, you won’t be getting anything,” Zarbon hummed calmly, closing his eyes as he took another drink from his cup. The glass shattered as it hit the floor, splashing whiskey and ice all over. Zarbon looked down as the drink spilled onto his dark green suit, and sighed. 

“And I told you, the gun was stolen! By one of your men!” The man growled, not caring for the fact he’d just damaged a rather expensive suit.

“You have no proof of that,” Zarbon said, glaring towards the other man. “And now I need to get a new drink,” He leaned back in his seat, a frown spreading across his face.

“Bullshit! I showed you the security footage!” The man growled, standing as he flipped the table over. In his fit of rage, he pulled a gun from his belt, ready to fire it at Zarbon. There was a loud bang. He never got that far, as a bullet hit him right between the eyes. His body fell to the floor with a loud thump.

“Trying to attack me with one of my own guns, quite rude,” Zarbon said, placing his gun back into it’s place in his jacket. He uncrossed his legs, and stood up as he pulled the gun from the man’s hand. The bartender jumped over the counter, to fix the table. He had a thick mustache, and a lot of red hair. Another, with a heavily scarred face and no nose, and a small bit of hair gelled back walked over as well, to dispose of the body. 

Zarbon glanced over the patrons at the bar, who were all incredibly tense. He sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to be shooting anyone else, unless they make the same mistake he did,” He said, starting to walk out of the bar. 

“Honestly, if there’s anything I hate more in this damn city, it’s cheaters…” He mumbled, opening the door. His shoulder brushed against someone else’s. He glanced over to his side, to see a rather tall man with excessive hair. Obviously a Saiyan, from the marking he had on the pocket of his jacket. And the so called prince next to him, both silent as he walked past.

“Pardon me,” Zarbon spoke calmly, passing them without bumping them again. He started down the sidewalk, chuckling a little as he saw how shocked they were to have seen him. He heard them whisper for just a moment, and rolled his eyes. 

“Vegeta Sr. is definitely pulling them in young now,” He mumbled, opening the door to his car as he got in the seat. It was definitely one that contrasted with the rather poor surroundings. It wasn’t very often you’d see a man in a sleek dark green Porsche.


	6. -6-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Implied suicide.

Frieza groaned as he put his pen down, rubbing his temples. He took off his hat, running a hand through his jet-black hair. The clock ticked, being the only noise in his otherwise silent office. He stood, walking over to the window.

It was so dark outside, how long had he been working? He opened the window, the cool wind blowing through the small opening. The sound of the highway down below was calming, surprisingly. He looked out at the streetlights, sighing softly. He glanced away from the tall buildings and fancy streets, towards the more drab part of the city.

“I should have expected that gang would grow unhappy with my purchases,” He said, stepping back from the window. He turned back to his desk, glancing at the cup of coffee on his desk. It still had half left, and he looked over at the remaining paperwork. If he stayed up longer, he could finish that night. He looked up at the clock. It was one in the morning. 

“Damnit… I should really get home,” He sighed as he looked around for his phone. He yawned, wondering how he was supposed to drive back to the estate. He could stay up in his penthouse, which was up on the top floor. 

The phone rang loud, causing him to flinch. He looked down in his seat, where his phone had fallen. Who the hell was calling him at this hour? He grabbed his phone, expecting to see his father’s number, ready to bitch at him for staying so late in the office. 

“What the hell…?” 

The number was no number he’d ever seen before, and he frowned. He let the phone ring, and went to voicemail. He told himself it was probably just some advertisment. 

He capped his pen, putting it back in the little mug on his desk. It had something very crudely written on it, as if it were written by a toddler. By it was a picture, of Frieza holding a little redheaded toddler. He smiled, looking at the picture. He grabbed it, leaning back in his seat as he looked fondly down at it.

Kuriza. Three years ago the little boy was born, not by intention of course. He remembered the mother unclearly. An old assistant of his, who had come up to his penthouse one night. He couldn’t remember what she had wanted, nor what he was really doing. 

One thing had just led to another, and he woke up the next morning with her arms around him, her red hair out of the bun she’d usually had it in. The red hair was all he could remember about her, that, and how she tried again that morning. He’d said no, and she didn’t listen. And he fired her. After the child had been born, she’d refused to take him.

She screamed about how the child was a mistake at the hospital, and screamed at Frieza for ruining her life. When they’d handed her the child she’d threatened to throw it.

She’d made the same threat later that week, but the one being thrown was someone much different. The last thing Frieza remembered was seeing her up on that roof. Nobody argued when he’d said he wanted custody of his son.

Good things came out of bad things though. Frieza loved that child with all his heart, and would kill for him. The little boy lived with his grandfather, since Frieza was always so busy running the part of the family company he inherited. 

He placed the picture back down, standing up from his seat as he let out a sigh. He looked back up at the clock, one thirty. Putting his phone in his pocket, he turned the lights to his office off. The door clicked as it locked behind him, and he walked down the hall.

The ring of his phone pierced the silence again, and he groaned as he pulled it out from his pocket. He nearly dropped his phone, seeing that unfamiliar number again. He pressed his thumb against the deny button, huffing as he shoved his phone back in his pocket. 

The halls were oddly dark, though it was also one thirty in the morning. Nobody else but a few security guards and Frieza were there. The only light in there were the streetlights coming in through the windows. 

“I’m worried over nothing,” He told himself as he pressed the button to the elevator. He wasn’t about to try and climb up several flights of stairs, he was already tired. 

He found himself humming softly as he waited for the lift, hands in his pockets. He flinched just a little as he heard a loud crash from down on the street, and found himself glancing outside to see a dark blue minivan which had been slammed by another car. He rolled his eyes, hearing the elevator beep. 

“Morons,” He muttered, glad he’d not decided to drive. Or it very well could have been his car that had been slammed. Though he felt rather bad for whoever had been driving the poor minivan. Whoever had been driving that sports car completely totaled the front of the minivan.

He stepped inside the lift, pressing the button for his penthouse, and sticking a small key into the elevator. Only he and his assistant had that key. 

“Fucks sake!” He growled, his phone ringing again. He pulled it out of his pocket, seeing that fucking number again. This time he accepted the call, ready to scream at whoever had been calling him, and demand how they’d gotten his number. 

“Don’t buy that building, unless you want to see a bullet through your pretty little assistant’s skull,” A strange voice threatened, though the voice was heavily warped. Before Frieza could answer, the caller hung up. 

Frieza stood in silence for the ride, until the doors opened. He walked out, entering his penthouse as he put his phone back in his pocket.

Suddenly he wasn’t very tired anymore.


	7. -7-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Racism. Racial slurs (not written out but heavily implied)

“Go back to Africa you goddamn n-!” Jeice no longer heard the man’s enraged screaming as Burter’s hands covered his ears. Burter glared back at the man in the truck, who was spewing out a horrible series of slurs. He led Jeice inside the cozy little shop, finding it was the closest shelter from a raging racist. 

Jeice sniffled as Burter sighed, wiping his tears away. The tiny man was trembling. He was always easy to startle, and someone screaming at him was one of the best ways for him to get startled. 

“You guys meet the one in the truck too?” A deep voice asked, and Burter turned to see a rather wide man. Burter stood straight, finding he was taller than this other man. Though he was rather thin, so his height wasn’t all that threatening to most people.

Especially when said person looked strong enough to lift a car. Okay, maybe Burter was exaggerating there.

“Y-Yeah…” Jeice squeaked. He looked towards who was talking, seeing the brown skinned man. He faintly recognized him as Dodoria, someone his step-father would speak to on occasion. 

“He’s just been parked there, for an hour I think.” Dodoria sighed, looking up at Burter. He definitely recognized Jeice, He was Ginyu’s boy. It was rather fun to hear Ginyu talk about him, he loved that boy to death.

“I’ve tried calling the police about him, but they won’t deal with him,” A woman sighed, leaning her elbows on the counter. She looked over at Jeice, seeing that he was very obviously freaked out.

“Don’t worry sweetie, he won’t come out of his truck,” She said, stepping over. She smiled sweetly, and Jeice felt weirdly safe around her. He looked at her nametag, reading Gine. 

“I know,” He said softly, letting Burter sit him down at one of the tables. It was around lunch time anyway, so they might as well get something to eat. Gine smiled as she walked back behind the counter, and Burter bought some sandwiches for he and Jeice.

He sat back down, giving Jeice his food. His friend was calm now, and Burter was glad.

The insults had been directed towards both of them, Burter was well aware of that. He was a rather tall guy, a bit over seven feet. He was a few inches taller than Recoome, which he was pretty proud of, it made up for the fact he was rather lanky. He had dark skin, darker than Jeice’s. He had no white in him anyway. And even despite that, his nose was small, which he hated. It looked like his mother’s. His eyes were sharp, and the brown looked red in some lighting. He had thick lips, and his hair was a box, which was dyed blue. By Jeice of course.

Jeice ate quietly, occasionally glancing towards the window. Though this time when he’s looked out, the man who’d been in the truck was walking towards the door of the little shop, glaring through the window at the people inside. 

The door swung open, causing Jeice to flinch. The man stomped in, gritting his teeth. He was a walking stereotype, with a shaved head, an arm of tattoos, and a filthy white wife-beater, with a confederate flag on the back. He was obviously not one of the locals either. Seeing as how he looked like he was definitely from some southern states. Someone exited from the storage room, holding a heavy box of meats.

“Hey mom should I put these in the walk in?” He asked, trying to blow a bit of his massive amount of hair from his face. He frowned, when he saw that the shot was silent, and saw the man that had entered. He huffed.

“Yes baby, those go in the fridge,” Gine said softly, nodding her head. Under the counter she moved her hand towards the drawer, spinning the knob. That was how she and Raditz had agreed to signal a risk of trouble. Raditz nodded as he walked back into the storage to put the meat in the fridge, and grab his gun just in case he needed it. 

“‘Scuse me ma’am,” The racist man started to speak. Gine swallowed, looking up at him. She glanced over at Raditz, who exited the storage. The man’s hands grew uncomfortably close to her as he leaned over the desk. The man reeked of alcohol. 

“Could you kindly tell me where the nearest bar is?” He asked. Gine told him about the one just down the street, hoping he’d leave. The man gave her a creepy smile, and backed away. 

“Thank you,” he said, shooting a glare towards Dodoria as he passed. He glanced at Jeice as he passed, opening the door. He seemed to decide not to say anything, and started off down the street towards the bar.

“That moron is heading straight to Zarbon’s territory,” Raditz commented, and Dodoria laughed.

“Then he’ll be taught manners,”


	8. -8-

“Do you need a painkiller?” The deep country voice asked, it’s owner sitting next to Zarbon. The sound of a glass clinking gently to the table made Zarbon open his eyes, and he scowled as he slid a coaster under the glass. The man chuckled, apologizing.

“No, I’m fine,” Zarbon replied, leaning back in his seat. Okra was less of an assistant, and more of a personal bodyguard and caregiver at this point. Not that Zarbon really needed one, which the usual patrons of the bar knew very well.

Zarbon held a hand over his lower abdomen, cringing as he felt the cramps again. If only there were a plug nearby, then he'd have his heat pad handy.

“Just worried is all,” Okra said, sighing as he leaned back in his seat. He looked at the wall, looking at a small bloodstain. A pretty recent one. 

“Oh they hadn't cleaned it all up…” Zarbon sighed softly, grabbing his drink again. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing a few graying strands back. 

“They're looking for the guy,” The bartender sighed, “They ain't ever gonna find him though, nobody finds a body down in that hellhole.” 

“You hid him in the swamp right? That's a bit far.” Zarbon said softly. “Usually we make them easier to find, you know how bad families react when it's hard to find.”

“He didn't have family, turns out he'd killed em all anyway. Got bailed,” The burnt man said, rubbing where his nose had used to be. He cracked his neck, standing up.

“They'll give up. That or figure out you got rid of him and drop it,” He said, finishing his drink. The burnt man laughed a little. Zarbon sighed, feeling the cold metal of his gun against his chest. 

“I need to be more careful about who gets armed here.” He said, sighing softly. Okra rolled his eyes. 

“Why bother risking it? I'm scared one day someone's gonna be faster to pulling the trigger, or some other police officer comes by here,” The southern man said, looking over at Zarbon. He frowned when the other laughed softly. 

“It's not like my selling is illegal. And besides, I only fire unless I'm attacked.” He said, looking over at Okra. “The cameras are proof,”

“Self defense or not-” Okra started, but couldn't speak further as Zarbon’s hand slapped over his mouth. He looked forward, at the man who staggered in.

“Sorry for interrupting, but I need a drink,” The stranger said. The others in the room frowned as they saw the symbol he seemed to be proudly wearing, that dammed confederate flag. 

“We don't serve drinks to people already wasted,” The bartender huffed. The burnt man nodded. 

“Bund, Vug, you know what I said earlier right,” Zarbon said, looking over at the bartender and bouncer. The two nodded, looking over at the other man. 

“And besides, this place is closed off today, can't you read,” The bartender -named Bund- said as he pointed at the sign, “So fuck off already,”

“Well that's no way to speak in the presence of a lady…” The man spoke, voice a bit slurred as he pointed towards Zarbon. 

“...Lady?” Zarbon gritted his teeth, glaring towards the racist. He clenched his fists, but before he could stand, Okra did. 

“Sorry pal, there ain't no lady here. Now leave before things get ugly,” Okra spoke, rather calmly. The racist scoffed. And what he said next obliterated Okra’s patience. 

“If that ain't a lady, it ain't nothin but a fuckin tran-!” Before the man could even finish his sentence, Okra swung a right hook right into his jaw. The man didn't even get a moment to recover before a cowboy boot slammed up into his groin.

“You should mind your goddamn manners!” Okra growled, before angrily throwing the man out onto the street. The door shut as the drunken racist groaned on the sidewalk.


	9. -9-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is legit just Ginyu being a good dad. Enjoy et.

Ginyu found himself unable to sleep, even despite the warm presence of his wife beside him. The light from the street lamps came in through a small opening in the curtains, illuminating the room just enough for Ginyu to be able to barely see the outline of the room. He reached over to the nightstand, feeling the cool metal of a small key. He grabbed it, running his thumb along the engraved letters on it. “Cabinet” it said. He sighed, placing it back on the table. 

It had gone missing once before, and several bottles of rum were later found empty in Jeice’s room. The poor boy had been in tears, admitting to having taken them. It was obvious anyway, from the slurred words and later discovered alcohol poisoning. 

At first Ginyu had been angered, but the anger wasn’t towards Jeice for very long once he saw how many times the boy’s biological father had attempted to call, and message. Toupet, the bastard. He’d left as soon as Jeice had been born, leaving Quesa with a ten year old boy, and a baby on her own. 

Ginyu had met her during a trip to australia, working as a waitress at some garbage restaurant. And they’d become friends. It seemed like what had truly made Ginyu fall in love with her, was her dedication to taking care of her sons. And what made Ginyu truly wish to stay with her, was probably the chubby faced Jeice who ended up clinging to his leg whenever he’d visit.

That had been twenty years ago, and now there they were, with a nice house, happy family, and Quesa working as a strong doctor, and very healthy for fifty years old. 

Ginyu sat up, carefully unwrapping Quesa’s arms from his waist as he pulled the blanket back from his body. He stood, sighing as he pulled on some sweat pants over his boxers. He wasn’t sure why he was getting up, but he felt the need to check on Jeice. He shoved his house shoes on his feet.

He seemed very upset when he’d gotten home, but wouldn’t tell Ginyu why it was that he was upset. Ginyu didn’t pressure him to say anything, Jeice was an adult. 

Ginyu carefully opened the door, and gasped when something ran on in. He heard a strange bark, and rolled his eyes as he looked down at the pug who was circling around his feet, trying to eat one of his slippers. 

“Dino, bad dog,” he hissed quietly, and the little dog let out a whine as she walked back out into the hall. Ginyu stepped out in the hall, sighing. Light came from one of the rooms, and Ginyu walked over. He slowly opened the door, peeking in. It was empty, Alfre’s old room. The man had left home once he’d turned adult, and took everything with him that was his. Except for one little necklace, the cross. 

Ginyu would be lying if he said the family wasn’t religious. He didn’t much believe in any higher power, but it seemed to comfort Jeice and Quesa a lot to believe. Jeice wore that little cross around his neck seemingly all the time, tucked safely under his shirt. 

Ginyu stepped in the room, about to turn the little switch off. His eyes were caught though, by a little book in the middle of the floor. He sighed, walking over to it and picking it up. He looked at the cover. It was the bible, but in french rather than english. It was Jeice’s. 

It was rather impressive, that the man could speak french as fluently as he did english. He could blame Salza for that, who seemed to have taken care of Jeice a lot. He’d been the only one of Toupet’s family who stayed when his uncle Toupet had left. He adored his young cousin, and taught him a lot. It was precious honestly.

Ginyu tucked it under his arm, turning the light to the room off. Jeice seemed to like being in the room, and would quietly pray in there sometimes. 

He walked out into the hall, closing the door behind him. He went into the next room over, and saw that the desk light in Jeice’s room was on. He smiled, seeing his step-son sleeping in his desk chair, curled up in front of his computer. Ginyu placed the book on Jeice’s desk, and sighed as he carefully picked Jeice up.

For a grown man, he was very light. He placed him down on his bed, carefully putting a blanket over the man’s small body. He stood for a moment, looking down at his son with a smile. He bent down, pressing his lips softly against Jeice’s forehead, before turning off the light.

“Good night, kiddo,” he said softly, before walking out the door and quietly closing it.


	10. -10-

 “If you buy that building that kid of yours will have his head blown off…” The garbled distorted voice spoke through the phone’s speaker. The officer crossed his legs, staring down at the phone and at the man sitting in front of him, at the bags under his eyes that no amount of makeup seemed to cover.

 

 “You say you’ve been receiving these calls every day?” The officer asked, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his chair, the wood groaning under him. Frieza nodded, swallowing hard as he felt sweat on his forehead.

 

 “Yes,” He said quietly, his voice cracking rather badly. He cracked his knuckles, sighing. 

 

 “I’ve blocked the numbers, but somehow they just… Keep making more,” He added. His hands were shaking, and the officer was quiet for a little while.

 

 “I’m sure that it’s nothing but… Some silly prank.” He said after a few minutes of painful silence. The man stood, his large stomach hitting the desk. “And besides Mr. Kold, we have more pressing matters. A body has recently turned up, and frankly we just don’t have the resources to deal with this,” 

 

 “They are threatening my son! My employees!” Frieza stood, the chair falling to the ground. The officer winced a little, and sighed.

 

 “Sir I know that, but with your level of power and security in this city, they wouldn’t be able to do anything like that,” 

 

 “...The saiyan’s would be able to,” Frieza said, grabbing his phone. 

 

 “It’s a bit of a rash judgment to assume such a thing,” 

 

 “I’m buying off of their territory, I think there's some logic behind it!”

 

 “I’m sorry, we can’t help you,” The officer said softly, and opened the door for Frieza to exit. Frieza gritted his teeth as he put his hat on his head, grumbling as he stalked out of the room. He would need to go by another approach.

* * *

 

 “Then maybe it would be wise that we not buy the building,” Zarbon suggested, sighing as he leaned back in his seat. He brought his glass to his lips, sighing as he drained the whiskey. He placed the empty glass on the coaster, the glass clinking.

 

 “Well the problem is that I’ve already signed the papers,” Frieza muttered, cringing at the look of the bar. How someone as ridiculously pretty and flawless as Zarbon managed to spend so much of his time in that place was beyond him.

 Though it made sense, it was Zarbon’s little safe haven from most of the bastards in that hellhole of a city. And the trash that happened to roll in, seemed to be taken care of with ease. It was one of the few places Frieza would absolutely avoid purchasing at all costs. Because while Zarbon seemed like the pretty and soft one, he was really the more scary.

 

 Frieza wouldn’t dare try to piss of the man, he was seven feet tall, and was rumored to carry a gun on his person at all times. He didn’t doubt it, since Zarbon also owned the gun store a mile or so away. And the man had the city around his pretty finger, sometimes Frieza wondered if it was more than even he himself had it.

 

 “Well, this could cause problems,” Zarbon said, sighing as he leaned forward. Frieza swallowed nervously, sitting back in his seat. 

 

 “I’d signed it before the calls had started, can’t really fix it now,” Frieza said, watching as Zarbon stood up. God he was tall… He towered over everyone in the room.

 

 “Well, the threats against me won’t be much a problem really. But you should make sure your son is safe I guess,” Zarbon shrugged, grabbing his glass as he had Bund fill it. Vug seemed to not be there, probably dealing with police over the body they’d found. Turns out they decided to check the swamp this time.

 

 “Yeah, I’m pretty well aware of that,”


	11. -11-

The couch wasn't comfortable at all, it was far too sunken in and old. But Guldo couldn't complain. Hell, he slept on the floor in his old apartment, so that couch was the most comfortable thing he'd slept on for months.

But there he was, laying on that couch at three in the morning, struggling to breathe. He reached to his tank, messing with the dial until he could feel air in his lungs again. He adjusted the tubing, rolling carefully onto his side as he sighed. 

Dark brown eyes glared up at the ceiling, the room illuminated by the lights outside. He heard people out in the street, laughing and hollering as if it were in the middle of the afternoon. He groaned, wanting nothing more than for them to shut up so he could sleep. 

He could hear Recoome over in his bedroom, bed creaking with each of his movements. For just a second he was jealous, that the other didn't have to hear the people outside. Guldo could barely see, his glasses over on the coffee table next to him. He closed his eyes again, rolling onto his side and holding a pillow over his ears. 

And for once, he missed his old home. He'd lived in south Korea with his parents before, but that ended. It had been years since then, but he still remembered it vividly. 

His first and only boyfriend, the one who made Guldo “straight”. He'd seemed so nice at first, but Guldo had also been skinnier, actually attractive as the boyfriend said. It had all gone downhill on a date. They'd gone iceskating together, something Guldo knew well how to do. 

He'd iceskated a lot, since he was 9. He had gold medals to prove it, but those had been shoved away in some box, held in Recoome’s storage closet. Guldo had been 19, when that date had happened. 

It was going well, so very well. Until he suddenly found himself unable to breath, a seering pain in his chest as he crumpled to the ground, blood coloring the ice red as he clenched his chest. Guldo had never heard the gunshot, but he heard the yelling. 

He'd been carried quickly to the hospital, but they couldn't save the lung. Guldo never found out what happened to the man who had taken the shot, only that he'd passed away while Guldo was in hospital. 

And after that, he couldn't do much. With only one functioning lung, it was too difficult to breathe. He was stressed out of his mind, getting rid of his stress with food. And after 3 years of stress eating, it showed. And it seemed his ex had enough. 

His parents found out, about the boyfriend. And Guldo was suddenly cast out by his family. He had his medals, and he had his tank. He was in his late thirties now. 36. He couldn't remember why it was he came to America, or even ended up in that city. 

But he had Recoome, and his friends. As little as the group was, he was glad to have them. Somehow he'd been lucky enough to get into the university, make something of himself. But all it really did was take all his money. 

Recoome’s bed creaked differently this time, followed by his overaly loud and thumping footsteps. He sat up as he heard that deep voice, and gasped when he felt the couch sink as Recoome sat. 

“Guessing you can't sleep…?” Recoome asked after a few moments of quiet. Guldo didn't need to see all that much, not right then anyway. 

“No, I can't,” He replied. This was… odd to say the least. 

“Yeah, me either.” Recoome said. He was looking over at Guldo. Guldo blushed a little, remembering he wasn't exactly wearing a shirt. But when a car drove by, he could see enough to tell Recoome wasn't wearing one either. He was conflicted over how he felt about not wearing his glasses at that moment. He tugged the blanket closer, covering himself in embarrassment. His body looked rather… unpleasant in comparison to Recoome’s muscular body. 

“Ya don't need to hide yourself,” Recoome laughed quietly, and Guldo frowned a little. 

“I look gross,” He huffed, looking away with a frown. 

“I think you look cute,” It was quiet, but Guldo had heard it clearly. His chubby face turned bright red, and his eyes widened. 

“What was that?” He sputtered. 

“Nothing, never mind.” 

“No I know you said something weird!”

“I'm tired, So never mind!” Recoome’s voice was firm, strong. Guldo winced, shutting up.

“...Sorry…”


	12. -12-

“Where the hell even is she?” Dodoria’s voice grumbled, the seat groaning a little under his weight. Zarbon simply sighed, tucking a strand of hair back behind his ear, legs crossed daintily as he looked towards the much wider man. 

“Most likely staying around the dancers at that club she’s always hanging around,” The pretty man said, holding his glass of whiskey. Dodoria rolled his eyes, laughing a little as he looked over at the other.

“At least we know her weakness,” He grabbed his own glass, taking a drink. “Half naked women,” He snorted, putting his cup down on it’s coaster. Zarbon rolled his eyes, finishing off his glass as he smiled a little.

“As if you can even talk, You’re just the same as she is when you see a handsome man,” The slender man laughed just a little, looking at Dodoria’s reddening cheeks.

“Well I’ve already got myself a handsome man, so don’t you worry about me getting distracted,” He assured, and winked at Zarbon as he placed a big hand on Zarbon’s thigh. Zarbon tensed for just a moment, and Dodoria could feel the muscle move. Nice.

For someone of Zarbon’s age, he still looked fairly young. Even despite the grey hairs peppered in with the brown, and a bit of line under those pretty amber eyes, He still looked like he had during their younger years. Dodoria couldn’t exactly say the same, having put on a few pounds over the years, and his grey hairs much more noticeable than Zarbon’s. Yet the two still looked very good for being in their late forties.

“You two are too old for all that,” Okra snorted, his cowboy boots rather loud against the floor, the spurs only adding to it. Zarbon only laughed, and looked over at the short man, who stood in front of the table.

“Okra, dear, you’re the same age as we are,” Zarbon sighed, reaching up to push Okra’s stupid hat down over his eyes. The bearded man huffed, but still had a grin on his face as he fixed his hat.

“And you’re one to talk, since you still keep trying to flirt with that bald one,” Dodoria added, looking over at Okra. The short man’s face flushed dark, and he looked away.

“Pft! What makes you think that?”

“You blush whenever someone mentions Nappa, It’s pretty easy to tell,” Zarbon smiled a little, and looked back down at his glass. He could tell Okra’s face was bright red, from the sputters and poor attempt at denying his massive crush on Nappa.

“Isn’t Nappa a huge guy though, too big for Okra’s tiny ass,” Dodoria joked, grinning at he looked at the short man. Okra crossed his arms, letting out a loud huff of disapproval at the short joke.

“You two just love to tease me don’t ya?” The cowboy huffed, and the spurs of his boots clattered as he childishly stamped his feet. Zarbon and Dodoria only laughed, and Dodoria gave the other a friendly pat on the back. 

“Because it’s so easy,” The two simply said, and Okra groaned. 

“Let’s just go find Celerah, she’s at her stupid club so it’ll be easy,” Okra said, looking at his phone for a quick moment. “Not a fun sight in there though,”

“I’d rather not go in there,” Dodoria grumbled, never liking the sight of a near naked woman. Zarbon sighed, standing up.

“Alright you two babies, I’ll go find her so you two don’t have to get scared by breasts,” He rolled his eyes, looking at the two. 

“Our hero,” Dodoria snorted, getting comfortable in his seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zarbon gotta protect his gays from seeing boob. Bi dude to the rescue.


	13. -13-

For a so called “gentleman’s club” the men there were rude and frankly, very gross. Zarbon gritted his teeth as he saw the rings a few of the men wore, and gently touched his own. He assured himself he wasn’t like them, because he wasn’t there to oogle at the dancers. He just needed to find Celerah, since it was made pretty obvious by her texts that she knew something rather important about those phone calls. 

He sighed, spotting her rather easily. It wasn’t hard to find her, since she was a rather large woman, with a practically gravity defying faux hawk. He managed to sneak past a crowd of the drunks, and hopped up the little staircase to the risen spot where her table was. And unsurprising, she had two dancers sitting with her, rather interested in her biceps. 

“Pleasure seeing you here, Green,” Celerah spoke over the loud bass of the music, which was frankly giving Zarbon a headache. Those damned lights weren’t helping him either. 

He very much enjoyed his bar much better, it was much quieter, and rarely did pervs come to bother people. Zarbon scowled a little, looking down at Celerah as he crossed his arms. 

“Not a pleasure for me,” He simply grumbled. Celerah merely grinned, and leaned back against her seat. She’d probably have winked, had she still had her other eye.

“I thought you liked the look of a lady Zarbs,” She joked. She eyed a seat, and waved Zarbon to sit down there. The dancers looked over at him as he placed himself in the seat, whispering to each other over how nice he was on the eyes.

“I’d be able to, if I weren’t too busy trying to avoid hands,” He grumbled, crossing his legs as he glared towards a crowd of a few very drunk men, who were being rather rude to a group of dancers. He sighed, and looked back at Celerah, who seemed just as annoyed as he was over a few of the men. 

“Those guys are so mean to us,” One of the dancers said, frowning as he kept close to Celerah. It was pretty obvious why they liked her so much. “One tried to get us to come with him to some gross apartment!”

“Apartment? Where?” Zarbon perked up a little. The dancer nodded, and looked back at the men. It seemed security was dealing with them, thank god. 

“In that gang area, the one getting torn down.” She said, heeled boot setting on the floor as she stood up. “He was a really gross guy too, had a burnt up face and only one arm. And he didn’t even bother to tip,”

Zarbon swallowed hard, praying that she wasn’t talking about who she thought he was. But… he also did. If it were him making those calls, it would be very easy to deal with it.

“Yeah, and he had another guy with him, with that stupid flag on his shirt,” The other dancer huffed, crossing her arms. “He kept calling Celerah mean names too, and he smelled awful.” 

“Oh yeah, I know who that was,” Celerah sighed. “He’s the one who was bothering Dodoria and Ginyu’s kiddo at Gine’s. Both were complaining about Vegeta too,” 

“Which one?” Zarbon asked, leaning forward a bit. He knew the gang’s leader had named his son after him, something Zarbon found ridiculous. 

“The old one.” Celerah sighed. “But hey, at least Frieza won’t have to worry about the gang getting on him just yet.” She added, letting the dancers get close to her again. Zarbon sighed, and leaned back against his seat.

“So we’ve got my ex and his racist buddy mad over losing their disgusting base of operations?” He grumbled, rubbing his temples in frustration. 

“That probably explains why they threatened you,” Celerah said, grabbing her drink. The dancers kissed her cheeks, before going down the stairs to go comfort their co workers who were clearly upset over the men who’d been mean to them.

“Well, I’m glad I have my revolver,” Zarbon sighed. 

“Yeah, definitely.”


	14. -14-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains violence, and heavily implied use of racial slurs. And introduces a guy you're very likely going to very much hate.

Raditz dropped the box as soon as he heard the crash, and his mother crying out in pain. The food fell onto the floor, but Raditz was in too much a hurry to even care. He sped to the doorway of the storage room, and had his hand on the doorknob when he heard a voice. One was familar, the other not.

“I’m not gonna ask you again! Where the hell is that fat n-!” The voice had yelled, and he recalled that racist man from before. Raditz cringed at the word he used, and wondered if he was talking about Dodoria. Of course he’d target their shop if they were looking for him, since Dodoria seemed to like being around there. 

“I don’t know! I already told you that!” His mother cried, and there was a sound of a fist hitting skin. Raditz snarled, and burst right out the door, running to Gine’s side. His mother was on the floor, whimpering as the man had struck her in the face.

“Leave my mom alone!” Raditz growled, glaring at the two. It was that racist man, and someone he couldn’t recognize. He was reminded just a fraction of Celerah when he saw the eye patch, but the man was also missing an arm. 

“Back off kid, or else you’ll get hit too,” The stranger huffed. Gine let Raditz help her up, and hid behind her son. Raditz was a rather large man, so when he stood straight the racist man couldn’t help but gulp.

Gine was just a small older woman, she couldn’t do much against the two. Raditz huffed, lifting his jacket enough to show the loaded gun he had under it. And if needed, he’d be able to reach under the counter for the rifle. 

“You touch my mom again and I’ll put a fucking bullet in your head,” Raditz threatened. The stranger didn’t seem as threatened, but the racist seemed to be stepping back a little.

“We’re just trying to find someone, so if you tell me where he is, we’ll be taking our leave,” The stranger spoke, leaning against the counter with his one arm. Raditz scowled, and was ready to grab his gun. The two had come unarmed, like morons. Didn’t they know how the area worked? Small stores like theirs were pitied by Zarbon, and therefore, armed. 

“Who?” Raditz asked, frown plastered on his face as he glared towards the other man. His mother held her cellphone under the desk. Three numbers already dialed. All she needed to do was press enter. 

“Dodoria, he comes around here pretty often,” The stranger described him a bit like how the other had, rudely and used very unkind words. Raditz didn’t at all like these two, not one bit.

“Why are you looking for him?” 

“He knows someone I need to find,” The stranger’s eye narrowed, and he frowned. “Now where is he?”

“I couldn’t tell you, he hasn’t been here recently enough for me to know,” Raditz replied, raising his gun towards the stranger. 

“Hey I haven’t hit anyone just yet,” The stranger laughed, but seemed to stop when Raditz flipped the safety off. He raised his one arm, almost like a surrender. 

“Now leave, before I shoot,” Raditz growled. The stranger grumbled, and motioned for the racist to follow as he walked towards the door. 

“...You said you saw him here last,” The stranger mumbled, and the other seemed to be afraid. The door closed behind them, and Raditz waited until they got into the white truck and drove off. 

“Oh Raddy, baby. You could have gotten hurt!” Gine finally spoke, hugging her son tightly. Raditz hugged her back, and felt his eyes tear up.

“I couldn’t let them beat you mom, I’m sorry,”


	15. -15-

Classes were canceled that day. It seemed everyone was nervous, as a body count was starting to grow. At first, people had just assumed it was either Zarbon or the gang, but neither used a shotgun. It had started with a few women, which already scared people as it was. But now it seemed, the killer was expanding.

It had also been revealed, that once a few construction workers had gotten into the basement of the old apartment building Frieza had bought, the location of a few dancers that had never returned to work. All killed with a shotgun.

So, as a result, Ginyu didn’t want Jeice outside. His step-son had quite a fit over it, having wanted to go back to the library for more of his books. 

But hours later, it seemed he’d finally calmed down. 

“Jeice… C’mon honey, don’t stay in here sulking,” Quesa sat next to her son, who was sitting curled up on his bed with probably the most pathetic pout on his face. She sighed, hugging him gently. 

“Your dad is just worried about you getting hurt, and I am too,” She spoke gently, and Jeice slowly uncurled, and leaned against his mother as she gently rocked him. She smiled, petting his hair. 

“Those poor ladies…” Jeice spoke softly after a few moments, and looked up at his mother. She sighed, and let him pull back a little. 

“Yeah, Blakburry and I have been having some trouble over it,” She reached for one of his books, handing it to him. 

“But don’t worry too much okay honey? Ginyu and I won’t let those mean people hurt you,” She assured, kissing his forehead. He nodded as she stood up, and walked out of the room. He looked down at the book, and sighed. He put it down, and stood to sit at his desk. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Ginyu’s voice spoke, and Jeice turned to look over at him. Ginyu had a bit of a frown on his face, arms crossed. Jeice turned his chair. 

“Yeah, what is it?” He asked, watching as Ginyu stepped in. 

“You aren’t mad at me right, for not letting you out?” The older man asked, glancing away for a short moment. He knew Quesa probably already told him why, but she had always babied Jeice a bit too much. Sometimes Ginyu wondered if she even remembered that Jeice was actually an adult.

“No, I’m not mad.” Jeice said, watching his step-father sit down on the bed, facing him. He saw the relief in Ginyu’s face, and could almost laugh. “Mum told me about the bodies, all that shit…” 

“She didn’t actually tell you huh?”

“Nope,”

Ginyu sighed, and looked down at Jeice. Of course Jeice would have figured it out on his own, if he so much as looked onto social media it was all people were talking about. 

“She babies you too much,” Ginyu sighed, and Jeice nodded in agreeance. 

“Yeah, she always had. I’m used to it anyway,” Jeice leaned back in his seat, looking up at the ceiling. “She’s still sad over Alfre leavin’ she’s always lookin’ at the pictures of him all sad,”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it too. I try to tell her it was for the best, but she won’t listen,”

“I’m just nervous dad… About how she’s gonna react when I’m too old to stay here, and keep letting her baby me,” 

“Me too…”


	16. -16-

It hadn’t at all been Tangariin’s idea to show her face at the party, or to end up holding that stupid red cup of vodka mixed with some gross fruit soda. She took one sip of it and found it repulsive, and ended up discarding it anyway. 

It was her brother’s idea, who’d been invited by his boyfriend to come on over. Who’s house even was this? She didn’t hang out with Clementiin’s friends, and only knew the names of them. 

“Having a shitty time too?” A voice asked, and Tangariin looked down at the little woman. Plumm. The woman was short, on the chubbier side, and had purple hair, with the blond still poking out. Tangariin nodded, and sighed. 

“And I can’t find Clem either, he wandered off with that goth or whatever,” 

“Yeah, Skeeter’s good at that. They’re probably off into Skeeter’s room sucking on eachother’s faces.” Plumm laughed a little, and motioned for Tangariin to follow her outside, away from the thumping music and drunk college kids. 

The cool air of the outside was nice, the crickets chirping. Plumm closed the screen door, and sighed. 

“I don’t know why I even let Skeeter drag me here, this is stupid.” Plumm sighed, sitting down on one of the lawn chairs, pushing her glasses back up on her nose. Tangariin put her hood up, adjusting her skirt as she sat down. 

“Yeah, I think I might just head home. My dads are probably gonna be pissed at Clem,” Tangariin leaned back against her seat, frowning a little as she looked in through the window, watching some moron try to chug from the bottle of vodka, and vomit right on the floor.

“Need a ride?” Plumm asked, looking up at the other woman with a little smile.

“Oh, I live just up there,” Tangariin pointed up at the hill that was a few streets down, up at the large estate. “Just have to go through an alley or two,”

“Hmmm… No I feel like a ride would be safer. You hear about those girls who were found in alleys?” Plumm mentioned, and Tangariin gulped a little.

“Oh yeah, I heard about that. My friend Jeice wasn’t even allowed to leave his house because his parents were nervous,”

“You hang around that group?”

“Yeah, My dads know Ginyu pretty well, so I hung around Jeice a lot as a kid,”

“I talked to Guldo once, he was cute,” Plumm grinned a little, and Tangariin snorted. 

“Oh you poor thing, he’s always grumpy as hell all the time,” She laughed, and Plumm pouted a little, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, But he’s really good in the physics class. And he’s always helping out his friend, Recoome I think?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Recoome has a huge crush on him anyway. Guldo’s got himself shoved too far in the closet to catch on though,” Tangariin joked, and Plumm laughed. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty obvious.”


	17. -17-

Recoome had never heard Guldo make that sound before, and unwrapped his arms from around the other after hearing a high pitched squeak. 

“Oh shit, You okay? Didn’t mean to scare ya,” He said, looking down at Guldo. Guldo glared at him, huffing as he grabbed his shirt.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Guldo huffed, pulling his shirt on as he faced Recoome. Recoome pouted a little, but still had a grin on his face.

“Why’d you make that sound?” He asked, kneeling down at little. Brown eyes rolled, and Guldo put his glasses on as he sat down on the couch, grumbling something -probably an insult- in Korean. 

“Because you squeezed me, asshole,” Guldo huffed, and looked at the tv with a scowl.

‘You’re just really huggable,” 

“And I was trying to get my shirt on,” Guldo huffed, face flushing a little as Recoome sat down next to him. Recoome still grinned, sitting a little closer than one would consider bro like. It was painfully obvious that Recoome liked Guldo as more than friends, but it seemed the other was either clueless, or just didn’t want to notice.

“You’re cute enough without it on,” Recoome said, and watched as Guldo’s face went red. He didn’t even feel it much when Guldo elbowed him in the side, just hitting muscle.

“yeos meog-eola.” Guldo grumbled, and Recoome’s grin widened a little.

“If you insist…” He laughed, and Guldo wasn’t even sure if the other was joking or not.

“Oh my god, you’re so weird, Stop,” Guldo groaned, and glared at the other. His cheeks were hot, and he was ready to punch that stupid handsome grin.

“What are you even in such a hurry for?” Recoome changed the topic, seeing that Guldo was trying to get ready. Guldo put the tubes to his tank in his nose, and sighed.

“I gotta… Go give something back to Burter, I borrowed his flashdrive.” He held up the blue flashdrive, and Recoome rolled his eyes.

“He’s already forgotten about that thing remember? I’m pretty sure he cleaned it out before letting you borrow it,” Recoome looked down at him, watching Guldo squirm a little against the couch, making it pretty obvious he was lying about what he was going off to do.

“Guldo… Is something the matter?” He asked, watching Guldo stiffin a little. 

“No! No… Nothing’s the matter,” Another lie. Recoome frowned a bit, and looked Guldo down in the eye.

“You’re a really bad liar,” He spoke firmly, and Guldo gulped a little as he glanced away nervously, pushing his glasses up.

“W-Well it’s just... “ He cursed a little, and nervously looked back at Recoome, face getting hotter as he realized Recoome wasn’t wearing a shirt. And damn, he’d probably have no complaints if it didn’t only add to the awkwardness that Guldo felt after being called cute by the other.

“Just what?” Recoome’s voice softened, and he scooted back to give Guldo a little bit of space.

“You keep calling me cute! And like… Hugging me a lot…”

“I can stop if it's making you uncomfortable,” Recoome said, looking away for a moment, before hearing another little squeak from Guldo.

“It's not that it's… It’s that I like it when you do it…”


	18. 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: A lot of ableist and homphobic slurs here. I don't condone the use of these words, at all. The characters in this chapter are terrible terrible people, and do not represent my views.

“You know, it’s a bit annoying that you aren’t just going straight to its bar,” The man grumbled, tossing the shotgun into the back of his white truck. He hopped into the driver’s seat, watching the one eyed man get into the passenger's seat.

“You think that’s a good idea? Moron. If you go running in there you’ll get yourself killed,” The one armed man huffed, glaring towards the other. 

“We already lost the building, what’s the point of just continuing to kill a bunch of girls Cucamba?” 

“We have to have them distracted, so we can get a good opening. We’ve gotta grab up Zarbon, and Frieza’s brat kid. Keep our promise,” The one eyed man growled, now named Cucamba. The other swallowed hard, and closed the door to his car.

“Well can we blast the cowboys head off? He kicked me in the dick when I went in there,”

“Christ Articho! You went into his bar?!”

“Found out that… Thing, doesn’t like being called a lady.” 

“It would make sense…” Cucamba mumbled softly, sighing as the truck rumbled. 

“Why not just go after the kid? That seems a bad enough blow on Frieza alone.” Articho spoke, putting his foot on the pedal as they drove away from the scene of the crime, leaving another body in the alley. 

“I have… Something personal with Zarbon,” Cucamba spoke lowly, leaning back against his seat. He touched the scar where his eye used to be. “He took my damn eye, so I’ll make sure his last breathing moments are absolute agony,” He snarled.

“He doesn’t seem all that scary, we could probably find him alone at some point,” 

“Except for the fact that he’s always carrying around a revolver, and has supposedly perfect aim,” Cucamba huffed. He glared back over at Articho, who was mumbling something under his breath.

“What was that…?” He growled lowly, his partner in crime flinching a little as he adjusted the shotgun on his lap.

“I was saying… The Kold building has it’s gun regulations,” He mentioned. Cucamba snorted, laughing hard as he slammed his hand on the dashboard. 

“Are you fucking retarded Articho?” He howled with laughter, his one eye closing as he seemed to be all too amused. Articho looked away, grumbling. 

“No…” He mumbled, fiddling with the shotgun in his hands. 

“Speak up,” Cucamba huffed, glaring at the other. 

“I said no…” Articho was still quiet, looking at the road in front of him as he drove the truck. He damn near crashed the car, as a hand smacked him hard in the back of the head. 

“I said speak up!” He yelled, and the breaks of the truck slammed. Articho damn near hit a light pole, eyes narrow as his head snapped over at Cucamba. 

“No! I ain’t a damned retard!” He yelled, slamming the shotgun down on the dash in anger. His cranium hurt from that smack, a lot actually. 

“Then why the hell did you have us go into that cafe, huh? Or go and get your ass kicked by that faggot cowboy?!” Cucamba snarled, hitting Articho again. The racist damn near hit his head on the window next to him, a bitter taste in his mouth as he’d bitten his tongue. Articho opened his mouth to speak, but Cucamba loomed threateningly over him.

“Now… We will keep killing these whores… And you will keep your fucking mouth shut, Okay?” He snarled. Articho nodded, silent as he looked down. He gulped.

“Good… You don’t want to be like Minto, do you? Or like Leftie?” Articho shook his head. “Good… Because we all know what happens to little fags who can’t keep their mouths shut like you…”

Cucamba gripped Articho’s jaw, watching with a sadistic smirk as the man nodded fearfully. “Yeah… You know, Good boy… Now keep driving.” 

And the car started again, driving down the street.


	19. 19

 “Oh son of a bitch!” Ginyu slammed the door shut, the walls shaking a little. Quesa stood behind him, eyes wide. 

 

 “Where could he have gone?” Quesa gasped softly, looking up at her husband. Ginyu stamped past her in a fit of rage, pacing as he tried to calm himself down enough to think. Of course jeice wouldn’t have stayed home! Why would he have even thought he would!? 

 

 “Let me think,” Ginyu grumbled, pacing in a circle. Quesa stepped back, grabbing her phone as she looked at the time. It was midnight! And Jeice had disappeared from his room with the window left open. His shoes and jacket were gone, and the key to the cabinet was on the floor. The doors to it were open, and a few bottles were gone. 

 

 “He can’t have gone too far, his cane is still here,” Quesa mentioned, holding the shiny red thing. He couldn’t walk very well, his size always having had a few bad effects. 

 

 “Then he got a ride, because Cherry next door told be that she never saw him walking. But she saw a car…” 

 

 “Color?” 

 

 “Uhhh it was… blue…” Ginyu blinked, and growled in realization. 

 

 “Oh my goodness, it was Burter wasn’t it?” Quesa gasped softly, looking at the cabinet. Jeice had mentioned some sort of party that was going to happen that weekend, but with another body found Ginyu had been very adamant that jeice stayed home. Of course, this time jeice had been very upset, and Ginyu didn’t seem to care that he’d made him mad.

 

 Yes, while it was true that Jeice was an adult there was… Something wrong with him. With his height came his difficulties; which were bad enough already. But there was another thing. That poor boy couldn’t be independent. He NEEDED to be taken care of. He could function like any normal human being, but things grew too overwhelming for him. He’d struggle to the point of a tantrum just trying to cook. And Quesa’s constant babying was not particularly helpful either. 

 

 A loud party… Even with Burter around… Yeah, not gonna end well. 

 

* * *

 

 “My dad probably thinks ‘m at the party,” Jeice snorted, uncapping the bottle as he leaned back in the seat. Burter rolled his eyes, looking at the few bottles Jeice had snatched up. 

 

 “You know, you only needed to grab like… two,” Burter mumbled, continuing to drive. Jeice shrugged grinning wide as he took a swig from whatever he’d grabbed. 

 

 “Need a good buzz later, because I know my dad is going to be pissed,” jeice hummed, enjoying the burn as the hard liquor slid down his throat. He closed it. 

 

 “Well don’t drink too much yet, we still have to… study,” Burter said, cheeks flushing as he glanced away. This all felt so scandalous, sweeping Jeice away from his house in the middle of the night, with alcohol and… what they were planning. 

 

 Burter was super awkward when it came to stuff like this, and had never expected Jeice to be so… promiscuous. But there were a lot of things people never expected Jeice to be, what with his issues and all. Burter just needed to get used to it, and it would all be fine…

 

 Jeice seemed to notice how awkward Burter was, and turned to look at him with a sigh. “We don’t have to… You know? If it’s too early-” Jeice started talking, cut off as Burter spoke.

 

 “N-No! It’s… it’s fine, I want to,” Burter blurted out, face flushing as he pulled into his parking spot. He started to turn the car off. Jeice sighed. 

 

 “You seem really… Nervous about it, And I ain’t too great at tellin ya know,” Jeice placed a hand on Burter’s shoulder. He had a warm smile on his face. Burter sighed, body tense as he looked over at Jeice. “I can wait,” 

 

 Burter smiled, and sighed as he rested his forehead on the steering wheel. “Let’s keep talking inside… Okay?” he asked, voice breaking a little. Jeice nodded, and took off his seatbelt. 

 

 “Okay, good idea.” Jeice hummed, stretching over to peck Burter on the cheek. 


	20. 20

Dodoria hated funerals. 

It was cold that day, the autumn wind blowing through their jackets as they stood there. Why had they done this outside? He would have asked, but instead he kept his mouth shut. An older woman sobbed for her daughter next to him, begging god to just return her little girl back to her.

Nobody’s prayers were being listened to. Not the mother’s, not the father’s, not the little boy who sobbed on his father’s leg as he watched his older sister be lowered into the ground. 

He was used to that sort of crying though, he wasn’t too phased by it. It broke his heart, of course. But what was really tearing him up was Celerah. 

“My girls…” She said quietly, staring as tears streamed from her working eye. Dodoria set a hand on her shoulder, and Zarbon let her hide her face in his chest. He ignored the tears getting on his suit, he could ignore it this time. 

“It’s not your fault Celerah…” Zarbon spoke softly, his tone different from its normal monotonous sound. He sighed, resting his chin on her head as he held her there, letting her sob. The poor woman was broken, grieving over her lost friends. She cared so much for the girls at that club, she’d protect them with her life dammit. 

Dodoria felt himself tearing up, and wiped his eyes as he reassuringly patted her on the back. It was such an alien thing, seeing her this upset. He hated it, he hated to see all this happen. Those girls were innocent, they’d never done anything to deserve this. 

Cucamba wanted to get attention, their attention. He had to know that they knew it was him, but knew how to keep it enough of a secret that the rest of the city didn’t know. 

A few orange leafs blew from the trees, the chilly air causing the people there to shiver. Celerah pulled away as she was handed a shovel, pushing a shovelful of dirt over the casket. Her tears fell into the hole, and she stepped back as she let out another sob. 

“I’ll kill the bastards who did this…” She sniffed, wiping her tears off with her sleeve. She stepped away, passing the girl’s family. Zarbon held a hand out for her, but she pushed it away as she continued towards her car. Dodoria shot a glance towards Zarbon, who sighed and watched her go. 

“She needs… She needs time,” Zarbon said softly, starting towards the green porsche. Dodoria nodded, following. They got in, sighing as they climbed into the seats. Zarbon adjusted his seat, giving his legs enough room as he started up the car. 

“She’ll be okay, She’s strong.” Dodoria said, looking over at Zarbon. The man was quiet, pulling out from the cemetery. They were quiet for most of the ride, watching Celerah drive towards her home, and both were glad that’s where she was going. 

Zarbon turned a corner, driving around the much more flashy parts of the city. Chilled city, it was named. After Frieza’s great great great grandfather or some shit. The Kold family had a harsh grip on that city, for a long long time. 

“Maybe he’s done… Maybe Cucamba will get tired of it,” Dodoria suggested, looking at the Kold building. The penthouse lights were on, and Zarbon frowned a bit. The car lurched at a sudden turn, into the city. Dodoria caught himself on the dash, scowling a moment. 

“He won’t get tired of it… Not until I pay some goddamn attention to him,” Zarbon growled, hands angrily gripping the steering wheel. Dodoria frowned, and looked forward. 

“What do you suggest we do then? Risk your life?” Dodoria growled, knuckled cracking as his hands tensed. “He’d already gone after Gine’s place looking for me, so he could find you.”

“Then I’ll meet him myself,” Zarbon huffed, glaring forward as he took another hard turn. Dodoria had to catch himself again. 

“No! No way.” 

“If I don’t, who the hell is going to stop him then?” Zarbon slammed the brakes, barely stopping at the light. 

“There’s other ways-’ 

“There isn’t!” Zarbon swerved into the parking area of the Kold building, damn near hitting the parking booth. He patted his clothes for his card, groaning in irritation. “Fucks sake!” He growled. Dodoria sighed, handing his over. 

“Just… Go home Zarbon. I’ll work okay? You… Need some rest,” Dodoria sighed. Zarbon continued to drive through the lot, parking in his designated spot. He yanked his keys out of the ignition, sighing. 

“No… No it’s fine…” He mumbled, forehead resting on the wheel. Dodoria patted his back, rubbing gentle circles. 

“Nap on the couch in my office then,” Dodoria sighed, watching Zarbon straighten back up. The man nodded slowly, undoing his seatbelt. 

“I have the cramps too…” He mumbled, and Dodoria patted his back.   
“I’ll rub those away, okay?” He spoke softly, and Zarbon nodded.


	21. 21

“So Vegeta, I’ve been thinkin-” Raditz stepped out from the walk in, lifting up another box. He placed the box on the counter, leaning his arms on it as he looked over at the shorter man. Vegeta sat at the counter, rolling his eyes and he looked up at Raditz.

“You? Thinking? That sounds dangerous.” Vegeta replied sarcastically, loading up his handgun with a sigh. Raditz huffed, pushing a bit of his shaggy hair out of his face.

“Don’t be an ass, it’s important,” He grumbled, lifting the box up again as he walked back into the walk in. Vegeta scoffed, sticking his gun back in his belt. He pushed his hair back, which was supposed to be gelled down. Yeah, that didn’t work. It still stuck straight up.

“When do you ever think of anything important?” Vegeta said, grinning as Raditz walked back out. The larger man huffed, leaning back over the counter. 

“Like, right now.” Raditz grumbled, adjusting the apron he wore. His mom had gone out to run errands, so he had to secure the home front. And by that, his mother meant work the shop until she got back. 

“Alright, Alright. Lay it on me,” Vegeta said, sighing softly. Raditz grinned, leaning up as he crossed his arms.

“I think it’s about the killings,”

“The one’s they think our group did?”

“Yeah, those ones.” Raditz nodded, glancing over at the door. Nobody was walking in, good.

Vegeta sighed, sitting up on the stool he sat on. His feet barely reached the floor, damn it all. He’d had his theories too, that maybe Frieza had something to do with them. But then again, as much as a bastard as the guy was, he had no need to be killing women and hiding their bodies in his own new property. Besides, the style didn’t match any of the guys goons.

“It might be those new guys, the ones who keep coming by here, or staking out near the Crcocodile’s place.” He said softly, leaning closer to Vegeta. Vegeta blinked, eyebrow raised.

“Why’s that?” Vegeta asked. He’d call Raditz stupid but… The idea wasn’t too abstract. 

“Frieza and his goons wouldn’t do it, the victims are friends with Frieza’s veteran anyway,” Raditz said. “And the apartment is where they found a bunch of the bodies, and it was pretty obvious from the news that Frieza was pretty damn shocked.”

“He’d good at acting,” Vegeta grumbled, but it made sense. “But yeah, he definitely didn’t have to do with it.”

“And us Saiyan’s definitely didn’t do it, your dad banned anyone from using shotguns.” Raditz stood up, stiffening as he heard the little bell on the cafe’s door. He looked forward, frowning as he saw someone familiar step towards the counter. 

“Heya hairball, your mom here?” The person asked, and Raditz grumbled. 

“No Celipa… She’s not,” He huffed. Vegeta looked over, at the stocky woman standing by him. She was short, but obviously had some muscle mass. She had a choppy excuse of a bowl cut, or something. The woman crossed her muscled arms over her chest huffing.

“Well when’s she getting back? I have something important to tell her.” The woman said, a bit rudely. Raditz rolled his eyes.

“I Know you’re here because my Dad did something stupid again, come back later.” He snapped, glaring away. The woman scoffed, standing her ground.

“Maybe it is, Maybe it isn’t. But I can wait,” She said. 

Vegeta stood up, heading towards the door. “I’m gonna see if there’s anyone to bother, you have fun Ditz!” He called as he opened the door.

“Dick!” Raditz called back, grumbling.


End file.
